Under My Fingertips
by EnglandBabe1997
Summary: Hanna doesn't know what to do know. The only thing she knows is Sophie. Sophie dreams of Hanna and watches the knife slide across his throat. She wakes up screaming.


**I love this film, and I watched watching it last night, so here you go x Please read and review x**

In the end at that is left is the silence. Marissa, the proper Marissa, lies dead at her feet, red hair splayed around her like a halo. Her father is dead too, even her grandmother. Her mother has been dead for years.

Her father-who-is-not-her-father is dead, her mother is dead, Marissa is dead, her grandmother is dead, her mission is complete.

She doesn't know what comes next. She hasn't trained for this, not without her father. In these last few days she's already learnt exactly how out of touch with the real world she is, no matter how beautiful it is.

She doesn't understand any of it, how it works.

She only understands the next kill, her next job. And she already knows that is wrong.

She is wrong.

Her medical records tell her that - abnormal.

There is nothing left of her, nothing that she understands. She doesn't understand any of it.

What can she do now?

Hanna stands there in the amusement park, Marissa at her feet, and can only think of one name, one place to go now that everything is done.

Sophie.

* * *

When she closes her eyes sometimes she screams. Her mother and father had never forgiven her for encouraging Hanna to join them, not after the night they spent under the watch of the men with guns.

Sometimes Sophie wonders if the government wanted to kill her for what she saw that night, only she was grateful that they hadn't.

She had never been so angry with her brother as when he'd told the red headed woman where Hanna was headed, the one with a lethal smile and razor teeth, and the gun that gleamed in the darkness.

Sophie wondered if Hanna was still alive. She wondered if the red head was still alive. She wondered how much longer she would be alive.

Her parents heard her scream sometimes, and next thing she knows she's having regular meeting with a psychiatrist. But this psychiatrist is used to handling things like the deaths of terminally ill parents and the suicide of friends. Not a fifteen year old that slides a knife through another person's throat like she's cutting butter.

Sophie has a bit too much fun dragging the memory out, just to watch the psychiatrist's knuckles turn white as she clutches at the table in front of her.

But she doesn't tell the psychiatrist that it isn't Hanna she's afraid of.

There has always been some sort of electricity between the pair, something neither of them could identify, that Sophie suspected Hanna had never even understood. Even Sophie isn't quite sure what it is, this bond between the pair of them.

She isn't afraid of Hanna, what she saw that night. Instead she sees Hanna turning to her when she calls, and missing knife that sinks into her gut, blood spewing out over the pavement. In her dreams Hanna yanks the knife back out, drives it into her chest and then backs away from Sophie.

A mirror always appears then and she looks into her own face, blood splattered and horrified and watches Hanna run through the mirror, away from her and that terrified look on her face. Sophie is alone.

At other times she doesn't pull the knife out of her gut, sliding to the floor, and when Sophie reaches her she doesn't have a pulse, her cheeks whiter than ever. On those days she screams louder than ever.

Only parts of these aren't a dream. Hanna hadn't run from her, Sophie had, but the look on her face had been the same; and she can still see the sadness in Hanna's eyes as she'd backed away.

Tonight is no different. She wakes up gasping for breath, feeling as though she is sinking.

She doesn't feel alone.

"Hello?" She calls softly into the night.

There is no response and Sophie feels silly despite herself, shifting herself more comfortably in her bed.

"Hello," a familiar voice says back.

Sophie almost falls out of bed.

Hanna floats like a wraith, into the sliver of light that slides through the gap in the curtains. She looks like a ghost and Sophie feels the urge to touch her, to feel her blood under the skin in spite of her paleness. She doesn't look to have changed at all, not one bit. She still has her accent, and her blonde hair, and that almost permanently puzzled look.

"Hanna..." Sophie breaths like a prayer.

"Hello Sophie."

Sophie launches herself at the other girl, feeling the hands tighter on her like they were ready to snap her neck if she made any sudden movements. She stills, but somehow is unafraid.

Hanna knows that and doesn't know why. She can feel Sophie's pulse beneath her fingers but it is steady and slow, not at all worried, in spite of the dangerous position she is in. She supposes this is trust.

She doesn't know what to think of this.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Sophie slides her hands up over Hanna's and rests them there for a moment before prising Hanna's fingers away.

"Are you alright?"

"I am fine."

"I'm glad." She puts a hand to Hanna's pale cheek. "I was worried about the red headed woman."

"You don't have to be. Not anymore," Hanna says clinically, and Sophie can already guess so she doesn't ask.

"Are you alright?"

Hanna has a considering look on her face, like she's trying to work it out for herself.

"No. Not yet. But I will be."

Sophie pulls Hanna down beside her. "What do we do?" Hanna asks barely more than a whisper.

"I tell my parents you're staying. Then we do whatever you want to."

"Music," Hanna says into the silence. "I'd like to listen to music."

"First thing tomorrow," Sophie confirms, brushing a kiss on the blonde girls forehead. They fall asleep holding hands and Sophie can feel Hanna's pulse underneath the friendship bracelet she gave her. She is not alone.

Hanna is alive.


End file.
